Reminisce
by Mireille DeMaupassant
Summary: When we lose the ones we love, we sometimes see them in the ones they leave behind. Not a great summary I know but it's gonna have to do until my brain starts to work again! read and review and this time I'm determined to keep this a one shot! Peaches!


**Rated M:** for sexual content and slash. You know what to do if that doesn't float your boat!

**Disclaimer:** You know how it goes.

**Feech's Note:** I really don't know where this came from. I guess I was sitting in my room, thinking about different pairings and Sirius/Harry actually quite cute, under the right circumstances. It takes place during OotP, on one of those occasions that Harry and Sirius are at Grimmauld Place together. (Take your pick!) I'm pretty sure there are no spoilers so, it's safe, if you haven't read the book. Enjoy!

**In His Eyes**

Tears well up in my eyes as I sit in this armchair, in my father's old study, and stare at this picture of James and myself. It seems like only yesterday that we were roaming the corridors of the old castle, after hours, getting into all kinds of trouble. And it seems like only yesterday that he was with me, in my bed, in my arms, on those nights that we spent together. The nights that all, except Remus, knew nothing about. It's so hard to believe he's gone, even though he has been for the better part of fifteen years.

I knew what we had between us wouldn't last; he knew it, too. He was already head over heels for Lily. I could see it, even before he did. The way he looked at her, talked about her. She was the one for him and I…I was just…well, I don't know what I was, but I don't regret any of it. I do admit, though, that I miss it. Even today, I still sorely miss the feeling of his lips pressed against mine, the feeling of his skin rubbing against mine, the feeling of his body writhing with pleasure beneath mine. Even thought I wasn't at all upset when he decided that we end it, I was left with feelings of deep longing, for his taste, his touch. And whenever I think I've gotten over it, I see Harry and the yearning comes back thirty fold, and it takes every fiber of strength I possess to keep me from throwing him down and having my wicked way with him, like I would do to James. The semblance between him and his father is uncanny, almost unnatural, even. They're practically identical in not only their appearance but, their habits as well. But, at the same time, Harry's a completely different person, and when I look into those beguiling green eyes of his, something entirely different awakens inside of me.

My reflections are suddenly interrupted by the sound of the door slowly creaking open. "Sirius," I hear Harry's voice say from behind me. Speak of the devil. "Mrs. Weasley told me to tell you that dinner's ready."

"Thanks, Harry," I say, without taking my eyes off the photo, "but I don't think I'll be going down to dinner, tonight. I'm not very hungry." I hear the sound of the door closing but, I know he's not gone. Seconds later, I hear his voice again, right over my shoulder.

"You miss him a lot, don't you," he says softly. I look up and see him leaning over the back of the armchair, dressed in a tee-shirt and pajama bottoms. I nod. He chuckles. "You probably miss him more than I do, having spent so much more time with him than I have."

"I watch him walk around the chair and take a seat on top of the desk in front of me. "Yeah," I reply, looking at him, "you wouldn't believe how close we were. I can't even believe it sometimes."

"Like brothers, right?"

I nod. "Like brothers." My gaze falls back to the photo. "Do you know what else I can't believe?" I ask him.

"What?" he says.

I look up at him. "How much like him you've become." He smiles at me. I return it. "I know you probably hear this every day, Harry, but you really do look remarkable like your father. And the only reason people keep telling you that is because it's so…amazing. I see so much of him, when I look at you, it's almost scary."

He is quiet for a second. "It would have been nice…to actually have known him, you know," he says, softly. A moment of silence passes between us in which he stares, contemplatively, at the rug. Then, he looks up at me. There's something heavy on his mind, I can see it in his eyes. "Um, Sirius," he says, hesitantly.

"Yes, Harry," I answer.

"I talked to Remus, the other day, and he…told me," he says, quietly.

"Told you?" I ask. "Told you what?"

He sighs. "About you…and my dad."

The picture frame slips out of my hand and falls onto the carpeted floor. So--the truth is out now. "Er…Harry, I--"

"It's okay, Sirius," he says, with a nervous smile. "I'm not…upset." He chuckles, nervously. "I'm actually…kind of jealous."

He looks at me over the top of his glasses, with a peculiar look on his face. I'm not sure what to interpret it as, but I know it can't be good. _What's going through that head of yours, Harry,_ I wonder. "Jealous?" I finally ask.

He nods, still giving me that look. "Of…him," he adds, slowly. I watch him get off the desktop and walk over to me. He climbs onto the armchair, straddling my thighs. _Oh, no,_ I think. My greatest fear has been realized. He brings his face very close to mine, close enough that I can feel his breath against my face. "You said before that you see my dad whenever you look at me," he whispers. "Well, do you ever see the James that you saw on those nights that Remus told me about?"

Oh, God. The way he asked that question, it was as if he knows I can't lie to him. Those mesmeric green eyes pierce into me, going straight to my core. Before I can say anything, he presses his lips into mine. His kiss is sweet with innocence. _This isn't good,_ I think. _This definitely isn't good._

"Do you ever think about me," he continues, still brushing his lips against mine, "in the ways you used to think about him, when you weren't with him?"

There is no question, now, as to whether he knows. His likeness to James is at its fullest now, as only James would do something like this, ask that question, knowing what the answer will be. I want so badly to scream the answer he wants to hear but, I keep control of myself. My brain is completely frozen, with regards to what I should to next but, it is quite clear what my body wants, as I can already feel my arousal growing inside my robes. "Harry," I whisper huskily against his lips, "we shouldn't be doing this."

"But, it's what I want," he replies, "what we both want…isn't it?" He spreads his legs further, allowing himself to fall further up against me, pressing our erections against each other. This time, control escapes me and a moan slips from between my lips. I dig my fingernails into the arms of the chair, trying desperately, to keep in charge of myself. Oh, gods, how can it be that Harry--little Harry, who I've know since he was a baby--is doing such things to me.

His lips part, slightly and his tongue slips out, only to glide across my lower lip. I open my mouth and allow him entry. His tongue connects with mine, but only briefly, as his mouth moves lower and he sucks on the lip he had just licked. Then, he kisses along the edge of my chin, to my neck. His lips travel upward until he reaches my ears. "Touch me, Sirius," I hear him whisper, and I completely lose the last shred of control I have over my body. My hand's, that have been itching with the desire to touch the skin that I forced myself to stay away from, go straight for the hem of his tee-shirt. I pull it up and over his head, throwing it onto the floor. They move all over his back, savoring every inch of his soft flesh. I pull his body further up against mine and take his lips again. As we kiss, I begin to rack my brain for reasons to stop this right now; my body may have given in to his sweet torture but, for reasons unknown to me, my mind hasn't. _He's your best friend's son…_ I think, desperately, _he's only fifteen years old…you're old enough to be his father._ But none of these is good enough to rule against the reason he is giving me to continue, by grinding down into me.

Remembering what James's weak spot had been, my lips begin to go south , to his chest, and I spread kisses all across it. My mouth closes around, and my tongue dances over, each of his nipples. "Oh, Sirius," he moans. I love the sound of my name on his lips, the way I've been wanting to hear it for so long. I need to hear it again. My hand travels from his waist to the point of his arousal and I cup him, gently. His face turns into one of pure ecstasy when I start to stroke him, steadily, through the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, eliciting deep moans from within him. He arches his back and begins to rock his hips into my hand, moaning my name, again. Unable to hold off any longer, I removed my hand and replace it with the rocking of my own hips. Fueled by the sound of my name on his lips and his cries for me to do so, my actions pick up speed. My eyes are glued to his face as I watch him go wild with pleasure. Oh, how he looks just like James did, when I did the same things to him, so many years ago. "Oh, Harry," I moan as I am overtaken by waves upon waves of pleasure. My hands slide down to his ass and I hold tightly onto the tender flesh as I rock harder against him.

"Oh, Sirius," he moans, digging his nails into my shoulders, "yes…don't stop…don't ever…" His words dissolve into a final cry as he is thrown into his climax. My orgasm comes only seconds later and my hips thrust upward as I ride it out, pressed against him. Then, as quickly as it came, the euphoria lifts, and both of our bodies collapse with exhaustion. He buries his face into my chest.

For along time, neither of us speaks, making our cadenced heavy breathing all that can be heard. My fingers glide slowly, up and up and down his back, tracing random patterns over the soft and slightly moist skin, as I stare up at the ceiling. I feel as if I am waiting for something, waiting for myself to start feeling guilty. But he guilt never comes. Far from it, I feel as if this is the most right anything can get. I look down at the fatigued fifteen-year-old sitting in my lap, pressed against my body. _My, my, Harry,_ I think as I watch his body rise and fall with his still heavy breaths, _you've come quite a long way from the scrawny thirteen-year-old I once knew you to be._

Finally, he speaks, breaking the silence. "I love you, Sirius," he says into the fabric of my robes.

My head drops to the cushioned chair back and my eyes fall closed. A sigh escapes me. "I love you, too, Harry," I whisper to him.

**More Feech Notes:** So what'd you think? looks up hopefully this is one of the few fics written by myself, that I actually like so, if you don't like it, don't tell me. Just kidding! All criticism's are welcome. Just leave me a review. All the best. Peaches!


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